


Rough

by Loethlin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loethlin/pseuds/Loethlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was rough and everything chafed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough

The fabric was rough under his hand and smelled of gasoline, muddy water, and dried blood. It used to smell like ozone, sunburn, and Cas. The trenchcoat got stiff and worn from tavelling in the trunks of the stolen cars, and the friction of Dean's fingers.

Castiel's hand was rough against Dean's palm, when he reached out for the trenchcoat tentatively. His voice was rough, when it broke under yet another apology, but Dean just growled at him to shut up.

Hair at the back of Castiel's neck was rough when Dean's knuckles brushed it, when helping Cas put on his dirty, worn out coat.

Stubble on Cas's jaw was rough, scraping Dean's palm when he cupped Castiel's face. Not as rough as Castiel's eyes, flashing at Dean in the darkness.

And the kiss was rough, too.

He wasn't sure what came over him, when he decided to crash his lips against Castiel's, and he was pretty sure that's not the way first kisses were supposed to go, either.

All he knew was that everything was rough, and everything chafed. Sam and the hollow lack of Cas, dead Bobby, everything went spectacularly to shit. But then Cas was right here, alive yet again, and he, too, was rough. Except for his stupid pink lips that looked soft like always and all he really needed was a little softness, a little comfort.

So Dean kissed Castiel, almost hard enough to bruise his stupid pink mouth, sucking Cas's lower lip between his teeth and biting, coercing a whimper out of the angel.

He heard a rustle of spreading wings, blackening the night even more, so he grabbed the collar of that fucking trenchcoat, pulling Castiel even closer.

"Not this time," he mumbled and kissed Cas some more.

It was angry and it was sad and it was desperate. And it was perfect, because they were angry and sad and desperate, too.

When they finally stopped, remembering about Sam getting his brain fried somewhere in the hospital, and Meg ogling them from the parking lot, for a fleeting moment Dean felt like nothing chafed anymore.

For a brief moment, holding hands while walking down the hill felt like comfort.


End file.
